


Chaotic Dumbass Sees the Dead

by BardOfTime, InsomniacsCoffeeCorner



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Demonic Possession, F/F, Im tired, M/M, Mostly Beta, Multi, Original Fiction, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This will go through two people each chapter so may take a while, ptsd in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardOfTime/pseuds/BardOfTime, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsomniacsCoffeeCorner/pseuds/InsomniacsCoffeeCorner
Summary: A boy by the name of Mason Bukolis has to deal with the bullshit of being a bisexual witch and being stuck in a cult conspiracy.Will he survive? Maybe.Will the update schedule be erratic? Absolutely.~Original work in case you don’t read the tags.Note From the Beta: I forgot to edit ch2 but will continue to do so





	Chaotic Dumbass Sees the Dead

One accident is all it takes to change your life forever. In this case, it was a literal accident. I’m not kidding- these adolescent idiots decided to go over the speed limit on an ice-slicked road in December, of all months! As expected, things went off track, the car crashed into the guardrail at the side of the road and ended up flipping over the thing. The one who drew the short straw was Mason Bukolis. For the sake of this story, we’ll start once he’s recovered and done with rehabilitation therapy, as nobody wants to read about months of physical therapy in what is supposed to be a riveting adventure.

One thing I forgot to mention before we start: Mason’s a little shit.

“Mason, for the love of God, stop picking at the damn scar!”  
“But Mom!” Mason retorted in a whining voice, “ It makes me look ugly!”  
“Don’t blame it on the scar- you do that plenty fine on your own!~,” Janis said in a sing-song voice.  
Mason let out an offended squawk in response to his mother’s cruel statement as she giggled at her remark and turned on the radio, opting to hum along to it instead of partaking in any more banter with her son.  
Sighing, he slumped into the back seat of the car. He had just finished his final session of physical therapy. As he looked out the window, Mason saw something that caused him to go through the exact motions of a classic anime double-take of horror: a girl in her early teens on the edge of the bridge.  
“Mom!”  
Janis swerved in traffic due to the shock of the outburst.  
“What!?”  
“I-I just saw… I just saw a girl! I just saw a girl jump off the bridge!”  
With each pause in his speech, Mason, still reeling from the sight, sunk deeper into his mind’s one-track panic.  
“Honey, there hasn’t been so much as another car out here.”  
The concern for her son was now quite evident in her voice, though she had been doing quite well at concealing it at the start of the car ride when Mason wouldn’t stop picking at his scar.  
“Mom I swear I saw someone,” Mason continued to say, exasperated.  
Instead of further trying to prove his sanity, he looked out the window, whole-heartedly cursing his left eye. After the crash a few months prior, he went completely blind in his left eye. It would be safe to say that this was one of the results of that joyride that he was more bitter about.  
As his mother turned her attention back to the road, he saw the suicidal girl again and felt relieved, as he was probably just hallucinating as a result of his faulty sight.  
What an absolutely genius move that was.  
After another thirty minutes of driving, they pulled into the driveway of the house he thought of as his true home. In all honesty, he was surprised that he hadn’t gone insane sooner.  
Back to the story, kid.  
Okay, fine- while he was entering the house, dizziness took hold of him. In an instant, everything fell apart around him, consciousness proving to be fleeting, and he was out like a light sooner than he knew. This was not an uncommon occurrence, since the God- with a capital “G”- played him like the cheap kazoo he is, resulting in his attainment of narcolepsy.  
Something unusual; however, was the girl appearing once more in his subconscious.  
At this point in time, Mason was fed up with anything and everything that had happened that day.  
“Why the fuck are you here?”  
His frustration with her had already poured through the thin veil he draped over his emotions throughout the “day.”  
“Hey, look, I felt you should know that I was already dead. Don’t worry about the whole ‘jumping-off-a-bridge’ thing.”  
“These dreams are always ridiculous.”  
“Okay! This may be a dream but you should respect the one that brought you back to life.”  
“What do-“  
“-And gave you the sick-ass power to see the dead.”  
“STOP”  
“NO!”  
As they stare at each other, the bristling tension from their superiority complexes becoming practically tangible, Mason woke up.  
“What the-“  
“-Don’t finish that sentence young man!”  
“OH MY GOD!”  
“You rang?~”  
At that moment, Janis popped her head through the doorway, a smug smile apparent on her face.  
“MOM-“  
“Stop yelling- dinner’s ready.”  
Mason’s eyes darted to the end of his bed. He achieved the most pointed form of direct eye-contact imaginable with the supposed ghost hovering there.  
“She can’t see me,” the “ghost” said, floating over to the door, “I’m gonna go see what’s for dinner.”  
“What?” Upon Mason’s face, a dead-eyed stare that could rival that of a frozen fish in the deli’s display case lay unwavering.  
“Dinner. Is. Ready,” Janis repeated in a slow, mocking tone.  
“Okay. Be down in a minute, mom.”  
She nodded and left, actually bothering to close the door on her way out.  
As she left, Mason flopped onto his bed and covered his face with the convenient pillow that lay there. Maintaining the position, he screamed long and loud, the exclamation muffled only by the cotton of its making. When he removed the pillow, he was greeted by the girl again, only she was hovering directly over his face, there being less than three inches between their noses.  
“Hi! The name’s Gwenyth.” She said, looking around and finally deciding to sit on the opposite side of the bed.  
“Why?” Mason groaned.  
“Why what?”  
“Why are you here?”  
“Because you almost died in the crash. I mean, you were in the dead man’s seat. I, with all my omnipotent power and the kindness of my merciful heart, brought you back. The ability to see the dead was a bonus.” She explained, like this was a casual happening in her life.  
Life?  
Like this was a casual happening in her existence.  
“I’m gonna go get dinner,’ Mason forced out, already tired of matching wits with this spectre-girl-thing  
“Oh yeah! One more thing.”  
“What?”  
“You may get a few more powers since you do have witches blood.”  
With that, Gwenyth was off, having dissipated to inspect some other part of his house.  
‘What the fuck does that even mean?’  
Mason abandoned that thought soon after its appearance and went to the dining room, only to witness his mother eating her food with aggression as she didn’t try to hide the fury she was stewing in.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“President Rump is claiming that any sexuality other than heterosexuality is faked and acts as a ploy for attention.”  
“Wow, he just said that?”  
“Yeah on Twiker. Well, he didn’t phrase it exactly like that- I don’t think he can spell attention or heterosexuality without a considerable amount of spell check- but it amounted to having that as an obvious connotation.”  
“Well, at least you have a story to dispute this week.”  
“Good point,” Janis said, forking a piece of pork into her mouth, “I’m glad I decided to adopt you. Your optimism is so admirable.”  
“Thanks?” Mason said, chuckling to mask his confusion at her statement.  
From then on, they ate the rest of the dinner with light conversation. Most of it was about how Mason needs to be mindful of his medication.  
Mason finished his portion of his meal, said a quick word of thanks to his mother, and headed back up to his room.  
“You’re adopted?”  
“Je-sus!”  
“Mason! Are you okay?” Janice yelled to her son, concern once again evident in her voice after being hidden so well for so long.  
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine!” Mason yelled back, “Just banged into my door!”  
The latter statement was pronounced as more of a question, but the sheer volume at which it was said drowned out the rise in his voice.  
“Okay! Now be quiet- I gotta write this story!”  
Mason sighed, walking to his bed. As he laid down, he groaned, “Gwen, why are you here?”  
“You’re the only person that can see me and I’m lonely!” Gwen said, feigning the disappointment in her voice, “Do you not like me?”  
“Not in the slightest. In fact, I hate you.”  
“That’s rude.” Gwen crossed her arms before continuing, “Also, too bad. You’re stuck with me.”  
“I’m gonna go to bed. Leave.”  
“Fine! I don’t need you anyway!”  
With that statement and all its false confidence, Gwen finally left, leaving Mason alone in the darkness of his room.  
“I don’t need this. I don’t need this. This is ridiculous.”  
Before shutting his eyes for the final time that night, he took a minute to pay proper attention to something that caught his eye when he had originally entered his room, before being interrupted by Gwenyth’s jump-scare. Upon his poster riddled-wall, there sat a newspaper headline, posted neatly with tacks against his Die Hard 3 flyer from the theater a few blocks away. 

“Zombie boy’s return to school is fought against by parents!”  
Local woman claims, “He’s clearly in league with the Devil!”

Zombie boy wasn’t the most creative insult that had been thrown around, but he’s definitely heard worse. Mason decides to stop reading the article, it’s been there for about a week now, anyway.  
Why would Mason keep it, you may ask? Easy- it’s funny. Especially now, since he is literally “in league with the devil,” or however that woman put it.  
He’s okay with it. He never really cared for the public’s opinion. His best friend was considered a loser by society, making him one, too, by affiliation. It never bothered him before, so it wouldn’t now, and that’s how it was and always will be- at least, according to him.  
As to how he would describe himself? He’s okay, really. He just wants some help in figuring out how to handle all the newfound spectral interruptions in his life, as he’s never dealt with any ghosts before- discounting the ghost of his past, of course.  
‘Of course,’ like that didn’t go without saying?  
Oh, shut up, will you?  
Back to the story, idiot.  
Fuck you!  
You wish!  
Anyway; He’ll figure out everything- all he needs is a little time. Until then, all he has to do is ignore everything that’s just senseless anger phrased by a frightened and confused public that knows little to nothing about him.  
He will grow and be a better person, eventually.  
For now, he lies in bed and sleeps.  
Tomorrow is another day.  
Another day, for sure,  
Eventually.


End file.
